Back in the Swing of It!
by HaresAndHallows
Summary: Set after the downfall of Alduin and Mercer Frey, thief Heddvi begins to miss the danger and adventure in her life. Seeing this, Brynjolf takes her on a mission which may test her skills, bringing her back into the perilous life she had pined for. But has she risked too much for her happiness? Rated M for gore in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE: I do not own Skyrim, the Elder Scrolls series or any of it's characters, locations and weapons, etc. Heddvi is the only character I own.**

Sat on a rickety stool at Vekel's bar was Heddvi: a Nord of 20 years and a skilled archer. She had a soft face of pale white skin, framed by long tousled hair the colour of fiery amber. Many called her beautiful, though she was not vain. Her body was slim, but muscular, and she walked with a feline grace that had attracted many a suitor. Heddvi was strong-willed and fierce, having beaten many an opponent on her travels and missions as Dovakiin. In her final battle with Alduin, Heddvi's milky white skin was marred by one of Alduin's coal-black talons. The pink scar stretched from above her right eyebrow and curved down in an arch to her right cheekbone, like a crescent. Heddvi had called it a blessing, a dragon's caress and a battle wound to distinguish her prowess as a warrior.

Lifting her flagon of ale, Heddvi took a long swig of the bitter, yet refreshing drink, her wavy hair falling back from her face. It had been a year since Mercer Frey's well-deserved death, and the Thieve's Guild was restored to its former glory. Many merchants had moved into the once gloomy Ragged Flagon, and Heddvi had inspected their goods many a time throughout the year, but her interest was slowing, and many a time she had been seen sitting at the bar drinking on her own.

Brynjolf had noticed Heddvi's decline, and was starting to become agitated himself. His loyalty made him concerned for all his siblings' well-being, but Heddvi's curious nature and affinity for the shadows sparked a certain admiration in him. As Heddvi made her usual walk towards the Flagon, many of her fellow thieves greeted her in their typical fashion. Approaching the door to the Flagon, Heddvi sensed movement directly behind her, but she continued her journey. Gently, Brynjolf touched her wrist in an attempt to gain her attention. Heddvi stiffened, turning her head slightly so that the candle light danced in her soft brown eyes. "Bryn…" mumbled Heddvi, turning to face Brynjolf. She already knew what he was going to say, the raw concern was etched onto his face, his brow was furrowed, and his mouth was turned into a slight frown.

"Lass, what's wrong?" asked Brynjolf, sighing slightly.

"Nothing, I…"

"Nothing! Lass, you've been distant for the last month. Vex and Delvin are asking about you, _I'm _worried about you." interrupted Brynjolf, stepping closer to Heddvi, who edged back in confusion.

"Bryn, I…I miss the adventure. Now that the Guild is restored and Alduin is gone, I don't know what to do anymore."

"Oh Lass, why didn't you _say?_ I would've found a job for you, for _us_. Give me a couple of days, and I'll see what we can do." said Brynjolf, placing a firm hand on Heddvi's shoulder.

Looking down, Heddvi nodded, her terracotta mane falling over her face and onto his muscular arm. After a few moments she lifted her head, and placed a soft palm on his stubbled cheek, her doe-brown eyes searching his face. "_Thank you_." whispered Heddvi, dropping her hand and stepping back, turning towards the Flagon once more. Brynjolf stood still, watching her saunter towards Delvin who handed her a bottle of ale, grinning in his classic playful manner.

In the few days that passed, the mood in the Flagon had grown much lighter. Heddvi joked with Delvin frequently, occasionally speaking to Tonilia about rare items she had discovered on her quest as the Dovakiin. Heddvi was sat at the bar when Brynjolf jogged up to her, his broad shoulders heaving under the black leather of his Guild armour.

"I have some news for you, Lass" said Brynjolf, his breathing slowing as his dark eyes danced with glee. "And?" Asked Heddvi, leaning towards Brynjolf in anticipation.

"Delvin has received news that a nobleman was kidnapped and robbed by a group of bandits near Whiterun." Said Brynjolf, pausing for Heddvi to absorb this fresh intelligence. Grasping Brynjolf's meaning, Heddvi sat upright, assuming a business-like position.

"So you're saying that I..."

"We." Interrupted Brynjolf,

"We, are going to take the loot from the bandit clan, for ourselves?"

"For the Guild, yes." Brynjolf confirmed.

Heddvi licked her lips and grinned, the anticipation of the treasure hunt coursing through her veins. Brynjolf finally sat back, a smug expression spreading across his face.

"So, are you in Lass?" He asked, holding out his burly arm in a deal-making gesture. "I'm in." declared Heddvi, grasping his forearm firmly.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, when Brynjolf and Heddvi had packed their necessities, the duo set off for their long journey to Whiterun, leaving their farewells with the rest of the Guild. Along their journey to Whiterun, Brynjolf and Heddvi stopped at Ivarstead, a small, rural village by the mountainside.

"I'm going to pick up some supplies, okay Lass?" asked Brynjolf, striding towards the village store

"Okay." said Heddvi, shifting the rucksack on her back.

"Here, let me help you with that…" said someone behind Heddvi, who turned round to face the approaching man.

"Oh no, I'm fine. But thanks for offering." replied Heddvi, smiling slightly. Abruptly, the man's expression changed as he took in the sight of Heddvi, his wide eyes tracing the tight-fitting Guild armour. It changed from one of kindness, to a sinister leer that Heddvi had received often on her travels. Stepping up to Heddvi, the burly bandit grabbed her chin, pulling her face up to look into his cold, green eyes. "Well aren't you a pretty one…" husked the bandit, his corn-blond hair hanging down off his face. Slowly, the bandit reached down with his other hand and grabbed her coin purse, feeling the weight of the Septims. In a flash of metal, Heddvi brought up an Ebony dagger to the bandit's neck, its black metal pressing into his dark, Redgard skin. From behind her, Heddvi heard Brynjolf shout "Lass!" as rapid footsteps thudded up behind her.

"It's okay Bryn, I've got this." warned Heddvi, pressing the sleek blade harder in to the bandit's neck, causing him to yelp. Brynjolf was now at her shoulder, noticing the bandit's hand holding Heddvi's chin, and hissing in suppressed rage. Heddvi was _his, _and this ruffian was handling her like a piece of meat. Ignoring Brynjolf's, Heddvi growled to the bandit "You ever try to touch me again, I _will _kill you, understand?" gnashing her teeth in disgust. Trembling, the Redgard bandit nodded, turning quick on his heels and sprinting back to the safety of the mountains.

"Well that's that, then!" Declared Heddvi, grinning like a child. Brynjolf, struggling to see the funny side, stepped in front of Heddvi and reached out to hold her chin gently. Rolling her eyes, Heddvi snapped, and said "Bryn, I'm FINE. I dealt with him, didn't I?" Pulling his hand from her face. Sighing in exasperation, Brynjolf nodded, restraining his desire to check she was unharmed. "Of course, Lass" he confirmed, "I just don't want you to get hurt." Heddvi nodded, and tugged on his hand. "Come on, we need to find somewhere to camp before dark" said Heddvi, letting go and falling into stride with Brynjolf.

Many hours passed since the Ivarstead incident, and the clear sky was growing the familiar orange of a waning day. Heddvi and Brynjolf set up camp a little off the cobbled road, their leather tents nestled among old stone boulders and tall pine trees. Lava-bugs hovered carelessly above them; their pale green thorax's emanating a soft glow, like candlelight. Sat around the flickering warmth of the fire, Heddvi and Brynjolf talked about the Guild, Skyrim, and Heddvi's duty as the Dragonborn. "So what was it like?" Asked Brynjolf, his head tilted in curiosity. "What was what like?" Replied Heddvi, trying to understand Brynjolf's meaning. "Meeting Alduin. Was he as fierce as they say?" Further questioned Brynjolf, throwing another stick on to the dancing fire. "Oh yes, certainly. He had scales as black as coal, and eyes as red as rubies. He gave me this scar, you know." Said Heddvi, pointing to the faint pink line along her face. For a moment, Brynjolf looked pained as his eyes followed the curve of the scar. "Can I..?" Started Brynjolf, hesitation spread across his face. "Of course" said Heddvi, her eyes following Brynjolf as he walked around the fire towards her.

Hesitantly, Brynjolf knelt before her, his dark eyes on hers as his arm extended towards her face. Sensing his caution, Heddvi made up the distance and gently grasped his hand. Leading it to her face, Heddvi watched as Brynjolf's eyes snapped to the scar, her soft fingers leading his to her marred flesh. As his fingers touched the scar, Brynjolf inhaled quickly as the once soft skin of her cheek changed to the raised, pink line of her scar. "You could have died." Said Brynjolf, his eyes opening again. "Could have, but didn't." Retorted Heddvi, a slight smile spreading across her face. Brynjolf stood up, retaking his place on the log opposite Heddvi. "At least you know how to take care of yourself. I suppose you have his head mounted on a wall, eh, Lass?" Chuckled Brynjolf, falling back to his usual self again. "Why didn't I think of that before?" Agreed Heddvi, joining in his laughter. As darkness descended upon Skyrim, Heddvi and Brynjolf turned in for the night, their "Good nights!" Echoed across the mountains as they separated for their own tents.

As quickly as night had fallen, day had dawned again, the sun casting shadows across the trees and tents. Leaving his tent, Brynjolf yawned and stretched his arms, the broad muscles pushing against his Guild armour. Abruptly, Brynjolf heard a loud splashing from a nearby stream. Unsheathing his dagger, Brynjolf called out to Heddvi's tent, "I've heard something by the river, I'm going to check it out!" before wandering over. Rounding the corner, Brynjolf came to a halt, his eyes widening at the scene before him.

Sat cross-legged by the river was Heddvi, holding a sack full of freshly caught salmon. As he edged further towards her, his heart beat faster as he caught more of her appearance. Her hair was wild, the copper curls tangled in a damp mess that resembled a lion's mane. Her Guild armour was soaked; the once light leather was now heavy with excess water, and the fabric was tight against her slight figure. "I thought you were still in your tent!" Called out Brynjolf, trying to control his roaming eyes. Laughing, Heddvi turned and stood up, carrying the bag full of fish in her right hand. Meeting Brynjolf, Heddvi dumped the bag of salmon in his arms and said "you weren't going to use that on me, were you?" Pouted Heddvi, her eyes drifting towards the dagger in his hand. "Of course not" said Brynjolf, gaining composure and sheathing the shining dagger.


End file.
